


Laugh Lines

by ellerean



Category: Free!
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, rin and haru are gross old men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1812094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This coming June welcomes the warm breeze, endless days at the pool, and Rin's 52nd attempt to surprise Haru for his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laugh Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Haru's birthday bash](http://harusbirthdaybash.tumblr.com/post/89846220355)!

When he couldn’t be in the water, the porch was Haruka Nanase’s second favorite place to be. It hadn’t always been that way—in the past he’d only ever used the porch for company, or to sit and watch the stars when he couldn’t sleep. But as he got older, he’d drag two wicker chairs outside during the warmer months, setting his in direct sunlight.

Summer had certainly taken its time this year. Haru closed his eyes, tilting his head back to the blazing sun. The winter had been long and bitter, and he thought the rainy days of spring would never end. He smiled, soaking in the warm, morning rays.

“Haru?”

There was the soft patter of bare feet across the porch, then a shadow blocking the sunlight from his face. Haru scowled. “You’re in my sunlight.”

Rin chuckled softly, and then there was the creak of the old wicker chair as he sat. “You’re just as bad with this sunlight now as you are with water.”

“Shut up and hold my hand.”

He’d always position the chairs close enough for them to touch. And Rin complied, stroking the papery skin of Haru’s hand before gently holding it. “I’m only listening because it’s your birthday.”

Haru opened one eye to squint at him. “Only took you fifty years.”

“Don’t tempt me, _Haruka_.” But Rin leaned back, resting his neck on the curve of the chair. “This is kinda nice. Summer’s finally here.”

“Happy birthday to me.”

He raised Haru’s hand to his mouth to kiss the palm. “Happy birthday to you.”

They had plans. Or, rather, _Rin_ had plans, and Haru couldn’t know what they were. _I’m too old for surprises_ , Haru had said, but that didn’t deter Rin from plotting. And he claimed he didn’t know all the details, anyway, because he wasn’t planning it alone. That didn’t help.

But there were still a few hours before they had to leave. So Haru rested, knowing that whatever Rin had planned would probably wear them both out by the day’s end. And now Rin was dragging his chair even closer, their armrests butting up against each other, and he draped an arm around Haru’s shoulders. When Haru tilted his head toward him, Rin immediately met his lips with a kiss.

“We’re disgusting,” Rin said, brushing Haru’s snow-white hair from his forehead. “Two lovey-dovey, crotchety old men.”

“I’m not crotchety,” Haru protested, adjusting his body so his head leaned on Rin’s shoulder. “Or old.”

“You’re seventy.”

Haru shrugged. “Not old.”

 

* * *

 

 _Seventy._ With each new decade, Rin told the same cheesy joke: _My husband’s in his thirties_ , it started. _And I’m only in my twenties._ It wasn’t funny the first time, and it continued not to be funny with each subsequent decade.

* * *

 

“Seventy,” Rin marveled. He watched the clouds pass overhead, mindlessly stroking Haru’s hair.

“You’ll be here soon,” Haru said. “Then I don’t have to listen to your sixty-nine jokes.”

Rin chuckled. “Guess I can’t make those anymore.” He kissed the top of Haru’s head. “I’m going to make lunch.” He disappeared inside, leaving Haru to bask in the sunlight.

Haru wasn’t much for nostalgia—he preferred to live in the moment, rather than dwell on the past—but as Rin’s singing faded toward the kitchen, he couldn’t help but remember the first time he’d heard it in the house. He hadn’t known Rin was much for singing to himself—not that Haru understood the words, as they were often in English—but it was one of many things they’d learned when they first moved in together.

There had been things he’d known, like Rin’s early morning jogs, and things he’d had no clue about, like how long he spent at the gym before swim practice. But of course, it had all been worth it . . .

His thoughts were interrupted by a delicious, familiar aroma wafting from the kitchen. Haru’s eyes sprung open, and he nearly toppled his chair over as he rushed for the kitchen.

“Mackerel?”

Rin stood at the counter with his back to the door, an apron tied around his middle, overseeing the sizzling fish on the grill. “And I thought I could surprise you.” When he turned Haru was suddenly right behind him, within perfect kissing distance. Rin pecked his lips.

“But the doctor said I couldn’t eat it.”

“No,” Rin replied, “the doctor said you had to cut back. _I_ said you couldn’t eat it, because you have no self-control.” He kissed Haru again before turning back to the grill. “I think we can make an exception for your birthday.”

“Mackerel . . .” His mouth watered from its scent alone, from the musical sound of its sizzle on the grill. It had been eight long months since he’d prepared his last mackerel fillet, staring mournfully at the empty shelf in the fridge . . .

“All right, fish boy.” Rin bumped Haru’s hip with his butt. “Go sit.”

Haru stood at the table, then looked out to the porch. The sunlight beckoned him, teasing that he wouldn’t be sitting out there on the first warm day of the year.

So he decided to bring the table outside.

“Haru?” Rin called, the moment the table’s legs scraped across the floor. “What are you _doing_?”

But Haru pretended not to have heard, bending at the waist as he shuffled backward, pulling the table with him.

“Haru! Don’t do that by yourself!” Rin jerked the grill’s knob to turn it off, leaving the fish to sear on the still-warm surface. He rushed to the living room, trying to swat Haru’s hands from the table’s edge. But Haru only gripped the table harder and kicked his shins, refusing to let go.

“Leave me alone! I’m not an invalid!”

“You’ll pull your back out!”

“I will not!”

Rin sighed heavily, then lifted the other side of the table. “C’mon,” he said, as Haru stood up straight, table still in hand. “It’s easier this way.”

Haru refused to admit it, but it _was_ easier carrying the table with two. It was a tight fit on the porch—one side balanced on the edge—but Haru smiled in triumph, gathering the cushions and place settings as Rin set the food on platters.

“I want to keep it out here,” Haru said, sitting before his mackerel in the sunlight.

Rather than argue, Rin smiled. “You’re too easy to please.”

The meal was perfect. His fish could have been live and flopping on his plate and he still would’ve been excited to see it, to have it within his reach. It had taken Rin ten years to perfect the art of cooking mackerel, but the wait was worth it. He still had the touch—just the right amount of seasoning, evenly cooked throughout, and it even had grill lines on both sides.

Rin watched him, but Haru remained silent as he took the first bite. His expression gave him away, though—the moment the mackerel touched his tongue his shoulders relaxed, his lips curling into a slight smile.

“Am I good or what?” Rin asked, and Haru replied by eagerly taking another bite.

* * *

 

Rin had made a big deal out of turning thirty-five, claiming a celebration was in order for spending the majority of their lives together. He’d pulled out the scrapbooks on Haru’s birthday, which Haru no longer teased him for. Once, he found them pointless, as most of their photos were only pictures of them in various swimsuits, standing by various pools. But as he got older, he didn’t mind it. Haru was grateful for those little collages and their accompanying newspaper clippings, boasting of their victories and their fame together.

 _We were so young_ , Haru had said, staring at a page from their first international meet.

 _And look at those abs_ , Rin replied, pointing to a picture of himself grinning at the camera.

Haru slipped a hand beneath Rin’s shirt. _They look exactly the same_ , he said, and the scrapbooks were tossed aside as Rin pinned him to the floor.

 

* * *

 

 _Thirty-five_ , Haru thought, staring over the table at Rin. He glanced at Rin’s stomach, still able to see the hint of muscle beneath his polo shirt. But it was ages ago now, the years steadily piling on top of one another. Thirty-five had turned into forty, which turned into fifty . . .

* * *

 

Not long ago they’d celebrated fifty years since their first date, which was their self-proclaimed anniversary marker as they’d had no official marriage. It _was_ legal now—after many long years in the making—but as they’d lived together for nearly that entire time, they didn’t see the point.

 _We already have matching jewelry_ , Haru had said, holding up his ring-adorned hand. They’d been wearing them for forty-five years.

 _It’s fun now!_ Rin had replied _. Living together without being married. Scandalous._

Rin had never stopped being an idiot, and Haru had never stopped silencing him with kisses.

* * *

 

“Do you feel seventy?” Rin asked.

Haru looked down at the mackerel, then studied the sunlight glinting off his ring. He then looked back up at Rin, whose smiled hadn’t changed in fifty-seven years. “I feel thirty-five.”

And he acted like it. When they’d finished lunch he curled in Rin’s lap, kissing him furiously, mostly in thanks for the meal. But also because they still could; they weren’t so old that their nights were yet dull, though the passion didn’t last nearly as long as it once did—only because sleep was no longer optional.

Plus, the longer he kissed Rin, the longer he could taste the mackerel on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

The year Haru turned fifty-three, Rin started tracing the wrinkles on his face. _What are you doing?_ Haru had asked, as they lay in bed together. But he could feel it, the way Rin touched the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. _Stop that._

 _You have laugh lines_ , Rin had said.

_Don’t touch them!_

He’d brought Haru’s hand to his own face to trace his mirrored wrinkles. Rin’s were more pronounced, deeper still when he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he laughed. Haru kissed his closed lids, feeling the one-smooth skin beneath his lips.

 

* * *

 

He allowed Rin to touch every line on his face as they kissed. The lines had deepened around his eyes and mouth; his forehead creased from excessive pouting. But he was calm as Rin kissed his forehead, knowing that Rin’s recognition of his flaws wasn’t to tease him, but because he loved them.

* * *

 

 _They make me look old_ , Haru had said once, frowning in the bathroom mirror.

 _Look at me, Haru_. He’d pressed his cheek to Haru’s, staring at their reflections over his shoulder. Watching Rin was easy; his heart still flopped at his smile, his blood rushing as he snaked an arm around Haru’s waist. _I’ve got the same ones, see?_ Rin had traced his cheekbones and around his mouth, pulling down the skin on his chin. _It’s okay. We promised to grow old together._

* * *

 

“You’re such a romantic,” Haru mumbled against Rin’s lips. Rin moved his smile down to Haru’s neck, the skin thinner and more sensitive with each passing year.

* * *

 

A decade prior, they’d qualified for an open water marathon. Rin had teased Haru about being the oldest one in the ocean (“My husband’s in his sixties, you know”), but their competitors knew better than to merely humor them—you didn’t cross the owners of the new Iwatobi Swim Club.

And to no one’s surprise, the former professional athletes had finished first and second. Though they later pretended to forget which one of them had won.

* * *

 

“Haru,” Rin whispered. “We’re going to be late.”

Haru pressed kisses to his cheeks and his mouth. “You haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“Nice try.” He unfolded his legs, and Haru unceremoniously plopped to the ground between them. “That would ruin the point of a _surprise_.” Haru tried to pout, which proved impossible when Rin kissed him again. He pushed Rin’s hair back behind his ear, pleased that he kept it long enough that he still could.

* * *

 

His gray hair still had streaks of red, striped like candy. Rin loved the way it looked, and Haru did, too. Sometimes, when they lounged on the porch, Haru would just admire it, staring long after Rin would close his eyes ( _not a nap_ , he’d claim, but Haru never believed him). And when Haru rose to get a snack or a glass of water he’d pause over Rin’s chair, combing his hair with his fingers, almost forgetting how it looked in the days it was all one color.

 _I still remember_ your _hair,_ Rin would quip. But Haru’s hadn’t had a speck of black in nearly fifteen years.

 _That’s because you look at those old pictures all the time_. He’d kissed the part in Rin’s hair before he could argue.

* * *

 

Rin pulled his hair into a low ponytail and hiked a duffel bag over his shoulder. He wouldn’t share what was inside, not that Haru expected him to. He offered to carry it but Rin refused, holding it close to his side as he locked the front door. He kissed Haru one more time before they descended the stairs.

There were new neighbors across the way, a young family with a couple kids. The children waved from the front yard, where they were planting flowers. They passed the old Tachibana residence; Haru still expected to see a bustling twin or two bouncing out the front door. Though they turned in the direction of the train station, Haru wasn’t convinced they’d be taking a train anywhere—Rin would be a little more uptight it they were late for _that_ , so he determined their destination was somewhere within Iwatobi.

 _Good_ , he thought, as Rin linked their arms together. He didn’t want to go anywhere else.

Haru loved the warmth, but was starting to sweat as they walked in the direct sunlight. He refused to release Rin’s arm, despite the sweat pooling in the crooks of their elbows. As if sensing his discomfort, Rin passed over a bottle of water he’d pulled from the duffel bag.

* * *

 

Rin had always loved the copse of sakura trees outside Iwatobi High School, and insisted on walking through them before, during, and after the blooming season. He never wanted to miss the height of the blossom, and dragged Haru there each and every spring. As the years progressed, there was less dragging. Not that Rin had stopped pestering, or that Haru relented easier, but it was a small ritual that he’d come to enjoy. Not just seeing the sakura trees in full bloom—though it was a sight to behold—but also Rin’s childlike wonder, like he hadn’t seen the blossoms every single year of their lives together. They had countless photos of the same trees, year after year, even though Rin claimed the photos were all different.

* * *

 

It was too late in the season for the blossoms now, but they still walked through the copse. Haru didn’t mind, as the trees provided ample shade, and he was getting overheated. Already his bottle of water was empty, but he preferred pouting over requesting another one. He was enjoying the silence; even Rin didn’t say much, which was a treat unto itself.

Distantly, there was a hushed commotion coming from the high school’s pool. That in itself was nothing new; the swim team usually hung out there over the summer, a ritual started when they’d been in high school themselves. A different sort of nostalgia pulled at his chest, a sense of pride over that little body of water, pulling weeds and painting under the blazing sun. He thought to comment on it, but was distracted when Rin steered them in that direction.

* * *

 

It mattered not how long it had been since their high school days. As they walked the path to that pool, they were seventeen again. They were not yet dating, in between mending their friendship and something more, with Rin’s arm around his shoulder in a way that was a little too friendly, not that Haru disliked it. Those were the months of hidden smiles and sleepovers—most boys their age didn’t _have_ sleepovers—and wondering how to act so the other knew he was interested, but not being too obvious in case he wasn’t.

* * *

 

Now, when Rin kissed his cheek, his lips were slightly chapped. His arm was draped around Haru’s shoulders, not quite as firm as it once was, though that was in part because Rin knew he wouldn’t escape. But his grip tightened when the pool came into view, and his surprise was unveiled.

* * *

 

 _No parties_ , Haru had said, when he’d turned fifty.

_But it’s fifty! Everyone has a party for fifty!_

_Not everyone._

* * *

Blue-and-white streamers were threaded through the pool’s fence, and far too many helium balloons. He could hardly even see the pool through the mess of decorations. And he prided himself that his farsighted vision was still perfect—on the other side of the pool was a hand-painted “Happy Birthday Haru!” banner.

“You’re lucky you’re a summer baby,” Rin said as he opened the gate. “I could never have parties by the pool.”

“But how . . . ?”

There was only one person of the small group who had jumped up and yelled “Surprise!”, much to the dismay of his partner.

“Nagisa, _please_ ,” Rei pleaded, tugging on the back of his shirt. “You’ll injure your hip again.”

The rest of his friends slowly stood from the benches, and Haru knew there was no resisting the group hug that would soon follow. Makoto reached him first; though his hair had grayed and he didn’t tower over them quite as much as he had before, he could still rest his head atop Haru’s when they hugged. “Happy birthday, Haru.”

Gou looked as elegant as ever, with her gray-streaked hair cut short and nicely framing her face. Makoto hadn’t let go yet when she latched on, too, followed by Rei, Nagisa, and—finally—Rin.

“I said no parties,” Haru said, his voice muffled by the mass of bodies.

Rin laughed. “You said that twenty years ago.” He dug into the duffel bag and pulled out a pair of jammers. “Go change.”

No one was surprised when he began to remove his pants at poolside. Rin only sighed and pushed him toward the lockers.

“You’ve all seen me naked,” he mumbled, clutching the jammers to his chest.

“Not in public!” Makoto said.

“Not _willingly_!” Gou shrieked.

It was less a “party,” more a reunion. Not until Haru was comfortably dressed in his swimsuit, and in the water beneath the sunlight, did he catch up with his friends. Makoto and Gou were still local—Rin and Haru saw them fairly often—but Rei and Nagisa were still traveling all over Japan. Rei resented being teased about not having retired yet.

“ _You’re_ still working,” he said, pointing a finger at Haru.

“That’s different,” he said, sinking down to his chin. “It’s swimming.”

“And we _own_ the place,” Rin added, as if that made a difference.

Haru watched them all. The progression of age is gradual; anyone who’d witnessed their last reunion would have noticed the differences right away. But Haru didn’t see it. Yes, Nagisa had a gut, and Makoto wasn’t as tall as he remembered. The only one who hadn’t changed too much was Rei, who denied up and down that he dyed his hair. (“I have good genes!”) Old age suited Gou, not merely in looks, but in personality. No one argued when she barked orders, not that they ever had.

He lifted his eyes to Rin. He was sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, laughing over some story Nagisa shared. Rin hadn’t changed. The hair color a little, but they’d both maintained their athletic physique, and Rin was obsessive about nutrition—and Haru, too, as a result, though not always willingly. Haru noticed other little things: he thought his neck had been firmer once, and though his thighs were toned they weren’t as muscular as they once were.

But he looked mostly the same.

Haru drifted over between his open legs, his back to the wall to look out at his friends. Rin automatically stroked Haru’s hair without breaking conversation, gently massaging the crown of his head. Beneath the water, Haru wrapped an arm around his still-muscular leg.

No, Rin hadn’t changed at all.

Makoto was out of the pool now, pulling a cooler out from beneath a bench. Nagisa seemed to know what came next, as he was hurrying out of the water behind him. “Who wants cake?” Makoto announced.

They allowed Haru to remain in the water as he ate. He leaned his arms at the pool’s edge, refusing the “Happy Birthday” song Gou wanted them to sing. She shrugged, sitting on the edge instead to dangle her feet in the water. Rin sat beside her, lightly splashing Haru with his feet.

“Nagisa, not so big!” Rei cried, as he cut them slices of cake. “Your doctor said—!”

“It’s a _celebration_.” Nagisa flopped the oversized piece onto his plate. “It doesn’t count!”

* * *

 

They’d gone on vacation for Haru’s fiftieth instead, though he wasn’t in the mood to leave Japan. The hot springs resort was perfect, and Rin hadn’t bickered with him the entire time. _This is for you_ , he’d said, as they walked to the spring wearing towels around their waists. The heat assaulted them before they’d reached the spring, and Haru was ready to jump into the water, towel and all. _I want you to be happy._

He was always saying things like that, like Rin didn’t already know he’d been making him happy for over thirty years. Though there were others in the spring that morning, and Haru wasn’t one for public affection, he’d taken Rin’s hand as they stepped into the steaming water.

* * *

 

Haru could tell that Makoto had used sugar substitute for the cake, but didn’t say anything. “It’s good,” he said, as he chewed a strawberry.

Rin had begun to splash Gou, whose shouts of “Grow up!” were hardly audible over his laughter. Haru inched away, his arm protectively shielding his slice of cake.

Haru squinted up at Makoto, who slowly lowered himself down to sit cross-legged on the pool deck. The sun was directly over his head, and Haru wished he’d thought to bring sunglasses. Maybe Rin had some in that duffel bag. “How’d you get the high school pool?”

Makoto swallowed a bite of cake before speaking. “It helps being an old swim club captain.” His smile still resembled the one he’d had in those days. “And when it’s for an Olympic gold-medalist.”

 

* * *

 

Rio, Tokyo, Paris . . . a combined sixteen Olympic gold medals to their names, then a retirement by the time they were thirty.

Rin had always been the better traveler—he had more experience—but Haru liked seeing the foreign cities and swimming in their pools. Their twenties were a never-ending storm of swim meets and victory ceremonies and interviews.

They’d flown out early for the Paris Olympics to be there for Haru’s twenty-eighth birthday. While they couldn’t sample too much of the local fare due to their training diets, there were plenty other tourist spots to hit. They spent three days at The Louvre alone, and Rin rededicated his love at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

 _Don’t do that_ , Haru had said, when Rin dropped to one knee. He’d giggled, rising again to hug him, and they stood with their arms around each other to stare out over Paris—and its newly-constructed Olympic stadium, the pool glittering in the distance.

 

* * *

 

Haru’s seventieth birthday party concluded with hugs and promises to see each other more often. Rei admitted that maybe it was time to retire, though he wouldn’t confirm where they would settle down—there was still so much of the world to see.

The sun hadn’t yet set when they returned home but Haru was already tired; the swimming and the sunlight had drained him, on top of the constant socialization. He dragged his wicker chair to the shady side of the porch, and Rin came out with two glasses of water. He kissed Haru’s lips before sinking into his own chair.

“Thank you, Rin,” Haru said. Rin knew he wasn’t talking about the water; he smiled when Haru leaned over to kiss his exposed shoulder.

The summer air was beginning to cool, which was fine by him. Haru sipped his water, feeling the cold trickle through his insides. He listened to the chirping birds, to the distant squeals of delighted children, to Rin’s soft and steady breathing.

“What’s for dinner?” Haru asked, though they wouldn’t be eating for several hours.

He caught the slight twitch of Rin’s smile from his peripheral vision. His eyes were closed, and Rin pretended not to have heard him at first. “Mackerel,” he eventually replied.

Haru rose from his chair, feeling a _pop_ in his lower back as he straightened. “I’m going to nap before dinner,” he said, and Rin opened one curious eye. When Haru slipped inside he left the porch door open, and it wasn’t long before Rin’s hurried footsteps trailed after him.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually did a little research on older athletes, and [these people are _amazing_](http://dailyburn.com/life/fitness/best-athletes-over-60).
> 
> ([Here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/89858356863) on tumblr.)


End file.
